Hint: It's flash fiction, so it's over before you know it!
From Out the Abyss Within
by
Christopher Nadeau
They were crawling out of his eyes, his ears, his nose. Long, slender tendrils coated in viscous, dripping fluids, shining in the light as they wiggled free and onto the floor. From there, they congregated, hissing, writhing, merging into newer, larger versions of their former selves. And they spoke. They spoke to him.
“No god but us,” they said.
“Please,” he said, lower lip quivering, “Let me go home.”
“You are home,” the creatures said. “So are we.”
His body went limp, obeying their command/assurance.
Still able to move his eyes, he glanced to his left and saw the portal still shimmering. One word, the word, and it would close forever. No more slithering, controlling monsters.
“There will be order,” they said. “No more enslavement to passions, desires, impulses.”
Sweat rained down his face from his hairline, filling his widened eyes with water and salt. At his feet, the creatures kept merging, growing, becoming.
He needed to move. Stop them. Close the portal. They’re only the beginning. They’ve waited forever and now they’re back!
“Please, God,” he muttered.
“We came first,” the unified voices said. “We are your god.”
Somewhere out of his range of sight, lay the body of Johnny, his partner-in-crime. They’d devoured him the moment of their arrival, declaring him unworthy. And who were they to make such a determination?
Evil. Primeval. Ancient Ones. His words from earlier today played over and over in his head: It’ll be so cool. Let’s rock the foundations.
They won’t rock. They’ll cease to exist. Reality is made of rubber and it will bend and take on new shapes.
The human race would die in its sleep.
“You are holy,” they said. “You are the Temple.”
Blinking, he glanced once more at the portal. Close off, he thought. Seal!
“The Path to Salvation begins with you,” they said.
He paused, mouth opening and closing without sound. Me? He thought. But I’m nothing. No one.
How could anything important involve him? His father called him the useless one. The disappointment. A mistake.
“Me?” he asked.
The creatures stopped and turned to look at him, one mind, many bodies, unmoving.
He smiled. “Me.”
From deep inside the portal came a chorus of inhuman voices singing of the Coming Change, hailing the Return of the True Gods, marching onward, marching, marching…
And he let them come, into him, through him. The Temple. Not useless. Holy.
Let the world bend like rubber.
They were back.
There was time enough for him to say, “Hallelujah,” before the Old Ones bridged the gap between the portal and the Temple and his vision was filled with glorious oblivion.
